Page 36 of The Bully's Dare

“I don’t have a spoon.”

“I don’t have cooties.”

She gives in and runs her tongue over it, catching both flavors. A dollop of butterscotch gets on the tip of her nose, and I crook my finger and catch it.

She tilts away from me and rubs her nose over the back of her hand. “So is this your thing?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…you take a girl here, impress her with your obnoxious ice cream choices, dazzle her with the sunset, and then when she’s feeling sugar-high and romantic, you get her to blow you in the dunes.”

I scoff at that. “No way.”

“No?”

“No. The dunes are too sandy.”

She rolls her eyes. Enjoys her ice cream. I find myself studying the flick of her tongue.

“I’m just trying to get to know you,” I tell her.

“Okay.” She shifts, elbow on the table, fully facing me now. “Ask me something.”

“What do you want to do?”

She cocks her head. “Professionally?”

“Like…with your life. What’s important to you?”

“That is a question, isn’t it?” She thinks, working over her ice cream. “I want to do something with music. Produce, maybe. Or write.”

“You don’t want to sing?”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s the behind the scenes stuff that interests me.”

“Can’t take the limelight?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Not really.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

She squints at me skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“You hide,” I tell her. “In books. Or you put those giant headphones on and hide in those. You’re always…hiding.”

She rolls her eyes. “Or maybe you’re always soaking up the spotlight.”

“Seems like we could learn something from each other, huh?”

That at least gets a small laugh from her. “Maybe.”

She screws up her mouth and her eyes flicker over me as though examining.

“What?” I finally ask—feeling like I’m under a microscope.

“It’s just…strange. One-on-one? You’re not so bad.”

“Thanks. I think.”

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